Pre-Order Your Copy Today:

Exclusive Excerpt:

There was a young boy among the prisoners. Younger than Dreron, by far. A teenager. He was trembling like a leaf. Whatever Alrik had planned, the boy would not last a minute.

“You may claim whatever weapon you may steal or exhort from any of us. Spill the blood of your peers, fertilize our forest with their remains. The last three standing will have earned their freedom.”

The bloodbath started.

None of the darklings hesitated, begging for swords that the Ironers were more than happy to provide, eager to see them murder each other.

Some among the prisoners were prey, and others, hunters. The boy Caim had noticed, because of his youth, fell in the first lot.

The smell of blood and the clash of blade against blade awoke something dark inside him, making him want to join in. This was what they were: wildness.

But the boy wasn’t fair game. Destroying youth was where he drew the line. His eyes followed his progression. He would not enjoy seeing him die, but if he spoke up against it now, he would be undermining the authority of a lord of Iron, one likely to become regent, on their land.

The boy stumbled over his feet, missing a blade by an inch. He crawled away, hands around his head, crying, trying to get out of the massacre.

He hit a bare leg. Caim lifted his gaze to the would-be murderer of the child.

The woman was emaciated, with dark circles under her eyes. Yet, she was beautiful. Striking. Memorable. Among a crowd of fae ladies in silks, she stood out in her rags. Her golden skin and dark hair. Her eyes.

Her voice.

It was but a whisper.

“I warned you I could not protect you,” she told the boy, letting go of his hand. “So stay close.”

That she’d survived five minutes without any weapon had surprised him. Now, it didn’t.

Tired and spent as she was, her every move was fluid and precise. A Gaian darkling came from the side with a blade; she tilted her pelvis forward, and the blade hit air. She reached for the attacker’s hand and pushed it back into his skull, all the while avoiding another hit on her left shoulder.

Water.

She moved like water.

If she’d had a sword in hand, Caim knew she could have made short work of all the prisoners, and most of the lords, no doubt. But she seemed content to let them murder each other, simply defending herself—and the boy holding on to her like the lifeline she was.

About May Sage:

May Sage is a USA Today Bestselling romance writer dabbling in different genres, although the readers who follow every series know they’re all related.

When she isn’t writing, she spends her time with her German Shepherd, her two Savannahs, and her black rescue cat, in England. She loves reading, ballet, running, and cake. Mostly, cake.